“Cynicism lacks any real conviction. It doesn’t like the game as it is being played – – and so it spoils it.”
J. Cameron “Sound of Paper”
For a few short years of my life, I wanted to become a Ping-Pong master. My dream was to be so good at the game that I could finally beat my dad, my brother and my older neighbor, Mike Kristoff. As the youngest brother of six kids, I hated being left in the dust…especially when it came to anything competitive. For a while there, Ping-Pong was our family’s favorite past-time, and my personal obsession.
When my dad came home from long weeks of travel for work; to relax he would grab a short glass of white wine and invite all of us kids downstairs for hours of Ping-Pong fun. It wasn’t fun for me, I wanted to win! My dad was the type of father who believed the only way to play fair was to play your best, no easy breaks. So more times than not he would tear us apart. I can remember him saying after an easy match, “Like taking candy from a baby.” It made me furious, but he knew it pushed me to be better.
My brother Don became very good at Ping-Pong…then the rankings were my neighbor, Mike Kristoff, my sister Gina, and then me. I was 5th in the family standings and I didn’t like it one bit. Oh sure, I was better than my mom and sister Steph, but that isn’t anything to brag about — they both didn’t really care about the glories of Ping-Pong. I wasn’t content with 5th place, I wanted to get better. And to get better I had only two options to work on my game:
(1) Fold the Ping-Pong table in half and play against myself. This helped a little bit when it came to improving my skills — I learned paddle control and how to put a spin on a serve — but when you played this way you could never really let loose and smash it. When you served a hard shot against yourself, the Ping-Pong ball would crash against the stiff surface of the upright table-top and then it would come screaming back at an odd angle totally missing your side of the table. There is nothing worse than chasing Ping-Pong balls around a hard tile floor. Usually, the ball would roll under our large, heavy old-fashioned stereo/record console. It reminded me of a wooden coffin. You had to crawl on your belly and reach through jungles of cobwebs and dust to grab the ball. Occasionally our hyper dog “Buff” would snatch-up the rolling white ball in his mouth and “crunch” – – his sharp teeth would rip the celluloid sphere into two gnarled pieces.
(2) There was only one other option to help me play and get better, and when desperate, I figured I had to at least try it. This option was asking my sister Steph to play. This was a dangerous proposition because you never quite knew what mood Steph would be in. Sometimes you would get the “fun & co-operative” Steph who would give Ping-Pong a jolly good try. Or you would often end up playing the “cynical & bored” Steph who saw Ping-Pong as a foolish game that supported the unfair system of patriarchal honor which favored those of us in the house who were gifted with good hand-eye coordination. When in this cynical mood, Steph could be heard murmuring under her breath, “This game is so stupid.”
But there were those rare times when Steph and I would get into some good, back and forth matches. Every once in a while she would send a zinger of a serve your way, and when it would zoom past you, she would say, “Point for me!” But if the game started going south for Steph, for instance, the time I scored 10 straight points on her, cynicism started creeping in.
It was easy to spot. Cynicism is always easy to spot.
Instead of trying to return my serve to keep the volley going, Steph would hit the ball as hard as she could and send it flying against the back wall of the room. “Oops, sorry Chris,” Steph said smiling. Like a home run hitter at Fenway Park, Steph would wind up her paddle and unload on the little white ball with everything she had. When cynicism fully-kicked in, the game, for all intents and purposes, was over — it was spoiled. “Wham!” There goes a shot up to the ceiling hitting the light, rebounding to the side-wall, and then landing in the poopy cat litter.
“Sorry Chris!!!” (smirk-smirk-giggle-giggle)
When her cynicism reached the point of no return, the only thing left to do was ask her if she wanted to go to Lake Erie and skip some rocks. Steph loved it outdoors away from the irritation of Ping-Pong. To get away from the from the game, cynicism would rather spoil it than persevere. That is what mockery often is, a sophisticated form of quitting.
I find this to be the underlying problem with most cynicism; If the game isn’t being played the way I want, I will often ridicule or ignore it. This is especially true when it comes to living under the rule of God. To believe in God you must adhere to his system of righteousness – – it is how he designed the world to bring peace and harmony. There are boundaries we are not to trespass and thoughts that cannot be entertained. For many people, this kind of living requires skills they are not used to using – – holiness, purity and self-control. Self-control for many is flat-out, “No Fun.” Living a life under moral constraint brings a certain amount of pain to the person who doesn’t like to be told what to do.
Did you know, most of us don’t like to be told what to do? John 3:19 says, “And this is the judgment: the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil.”
The reason your average atheist, agnostic, and non-church goer is so cynical is that he doesn’t want to play the game of life which requires you to “live by the rules.” They don’t like the game as it is, so they snark. Many independent thinkers who have cynical undertones shaping their words, often would rather spoil life for others than try to be civil. Did you know it is easier to tear something down than build? It is easier to quit than to learn self-control and excellence?
This year I personally am hoping not to be so cynical — sad to say, I think it shrunk my heart a bit last year. I found myself mocking more than helping. As my dad would often say, “There are only two options in life: (1) To complain about the darkness (cynicism, mockery, ignoring), or (2) Light a candle for others to see.” Which one will you choose this year?
Now, it’s your serve.
